Bells Through the Leaves
by wildcat7898
Summary: Seven months after she is reassigned to the Lexington, Spock and Uhura travel to London for her nephew's graduation from university. This is part 4 of "Fire, Wind, and Water: The Debussy Suite". It follows "Dialogue of the Wind and Sea."
1. Chapter 1

Title: Fire, Wind, and Water: The Debussy Suite 4, Bells Through the Leaves

Author: Wildcat

Series: TOS

Rating: MA

Codes: S/U

Summary: Seven months after she is reassigned to the Lexington, Spock and Uhura travel to London for her nephew's graduation from university. This takes place after the events described in the following stories:

A Woman's Touch

The Taste of Snow

Almost a Kiss

You Would Even Say She Glows

The Flame Within

Fire, Wind, and Water 1: What the West Wind Saw

Fire, Wind, and Water 2: The Isle of Joy

Fire, Wind, and Water 3: Dialogue of the Wind and Sea

Note that this is part four of Fire, Wind, and Water: The Debussy Suite.

Disclaimer: Paramount owns Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Uhura, and company. I have just borrowed them for a while and will not profit from any of this.

Once again, thanks to Claude Debussy for his piano composition, "Cloches a travers les feuilles," from which I took the title.

Also, thanks to my ever-faithful beta readers, Jungle Kitty and ebonbird, and a special thanks to Ned, who helped ensure that my descriptions of the life and sights in London were accurate.

"Fire, Wind, and Water: The Debussy Suite won 1st place for "Best S/U Story," 3rd place for "Best TOS Story" and Honorable Mention for "Best Overall Story" in the 1998 Golden O Awards. This particular story also won 3rd place for "Spock Romance" in the 1998 ASC Awards.

Feedback is desired.

Bells Through the Leaves, chapter 1

From her seat next to the window, Uhura reached across Spock and accepted the steaming cup from the flight attendant standing in the aisle.

"Anything else for you, ma'am?"

"Do you have any milk for the tea?"

"Yes, of course." The man handed her a small container. "And for you, sir?"

"Nothing at the moment, thank you."

Uhura smiled at the young man as he moved to the next row, and then she leaned close to Spock and murmured, "I'd almost forgotten what it's like to have someone looking after me on a trip like this."

"Our flight accommodations are quite comfortable." He stretched out his legs to demonstrate the generous distance between the seats. "You chose well."

"Thanks. I figured that if we were going to be sitting here for twenty-one hours, we might as well enjoy ourselves." She stirred the milk into her tea. "Of course, we could be in the cargo hold of a Tellarite freighter, and I'd still enjoy myself as long as I was sitting with you."

"I will remind you of your words in another twenty-point-five hours."

Chuckling, she leaned back in her seat. "I just can't believe that we're finally on our way to London! It seems like I've been looking forward to this forever. While I was waiting to meet you at the spaceport this morning, I almost thought I should pinch myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. What do you want to do first after my nephew's graduation?"

"If you are agreeable, I would like to tour the British Museum. I have not yet accessed the museum's calendar of upcoming events, so I do not know which traveling exhibits might be present, but..." His voice tapered away as Uhura reached into the carry-on bag underneath the seat. "What do you have in there?"

She grinned and pulled out a padd. "I found a travel agent on Starbase Fourteen who specializes in Earth vacations. Look at these brochures she had: The Tower of London, Westminster Abbey, the old Underground, pub tours-not that you'd be much interested in that one-gardens and parks... Look at this beautiful hologram of the flowers at Buckingham Palace. And here's a schedule for the British Museum."

Accepting the padd from her, he said, "Nyota, as always, I am impressed by your resourcefulness."

"You just didn't bother to look it up because you knew I would."

He met her eyes briefly, the corner of his mouth raised. "Perhaps."

They returned their attention to the padd, and he keyed in a few commands. A moment later, he held it between them.

"Oh, look," she said. "The mask of Tutankhamen is on loan from the Egyptian Museum. When I was little, my grandmother tried to take me to see it during a trip to Cairo to visit her parents. She made the mistake, though, of telling me about the curse of the mummy's tomb, and I refused to go in the museum."

"You have never seen it?"

"No. This will be a first."

He paged through some more of the brochures. "This will interest you. Ling Chih Yong is to perform a program of Debussy's piano music Saturday evening at the Academy of Saint Martin-in-the-Fields."

"Really? I must have missed that when I looked through these before."

He handed the padd back to her. "She will play the 'Estampes' suite and a number of selections from 'Images II.' If you wish, we will attend her recital."

"I'd love to, but when is our trip to Bath?"

"Dr. Singleton agreed to allow us access to the excavations on Friday, so it will not conflict with this."

"Wonderful! So, we have Sefu's graduation on Wednesday, the trip to Bath on Friday, and this Saturday night. Maybe we can see the museums on Thursday. Did you want to try to visit your grandmother while we're on Earth?"

"If you do not object, I thought that we could spend a portion of Saturday in Seattle. I have not yet contacted her in case this conflicts with any plans you have already made."

"Except for this recital, I don't have any plans for Saturday, so it fits in perfectly. Besides, you can't go to Earth without visiting your grandmother."

"She would certainly be angry with me if I did. I must add, however, that she would never forgive me if she discovered I brought you to Earth and did not introduce you to her."

"She knows about me?"

"No," he replied hesitantly. "She does not."

She sighed. "You still haven't told your parents about us."

He shook his head.

"So what are you going to tell your grandmother? That you're on Earth for a business trip and that I'm your colleague?"

"I will tell her the truth."

Watching him closely, she said, "If you tell her, you're going to have to tell your parents."

"I am aware of that."

"Are you sure you want to do that?" she said acerbically. "After all, we've only been involved for a year and six months."

He raised an eyebrow, obviously amused at her tone. "It has been precisely one year, six months, and four-point-eight days, assuming that the measurement is based on the Terran calendar and that we have been 'involved' since the moment we first consummated our relationship."

She shook her head as they regarded each other. Finally, he lifted his hand with two fingers extended.

"Yes," he said gently. "I am sure."

Placing the padd in her lap, she touched her fingers to his and smiled. Her voice equally soft, she said, "Good. And it's about time."

...

Careful to keep his movements to a minimum, Spock changed the settings on Nyota's padd to compensate for the low light and studied the tour schedule at the Tower of London. They had been en route for twelve point four hours, and at the moment his surroundings were very quiet and still. Except for the ever-present hum of the warp engines in the background, all he could hear were a murmured conversation between two of the passengers in the very front of the craft, and Nyota's slow, steady breathing as it emanated from the pillow against his shoulder.

He thumbed off the padd and leaned back in the seat so that he could see the top of her head. Although he was somewhat restricted by her weight against him, he also found it oddly soothing. Their peaceful environment seemed to encourage a sense of solitude. Such a thought was illogical when one considered that they were far from alone, but he nevertheless found it easy to ignore the presence of the other beings around them.

Resting his head against the top of the pillow, he closed his eyes and placed himself into a light sleep.

...

"Oh, Spock, isn't it beautiful? The sky is crisp and clear, and look at the trees and the autumn flowers! I've never seen so many shades of gold, orange, and red."

Uhura leaned back in her seat to allow Spock to see out her window. Although they could have chosen a much more direct route to her sister's house, they had decided to program the taxi to take them through downtown London instead, and she couldn't help but exclaim over every new sight. She felt like such a tourist! Even though she had been so weary when they landed at Heathrow that she'd stumbled through customs like a zombie, she'd quickly shaken off her fatigue in the excitement of the moment. And now that the hustle and bustle of the more commercial areas was gradually being replaced by these solid rows of well-kept brownstone houses, she was almost beside herself with anticipation.

Finally, the taxi came to a stop in front of a set of high steps. They were just the same as the steps leading into the house on the right and the steps leading into the house on the left, but Uhura would have known that this was Milele's house even if she hadn't recognized it. This house alone, in the midst of all the other identical houses, had a large, bright maple tree growing brazenly from the tiny swath of green that squeezed between the sidewalk and the house.

Uhura remembered the day Yusufu planted that tree. Sefu had been an infant in Milele's arms, and they had planted the seedling beneath his nursery window on the morning they brought him home for the first time. The little boy's parents had dreamt of the day when their son would look out onto his own private bit of nature, but Uhura had scoffed. How could such a tiny thing survive in an urban environment such as this? But the determined little tree had thrived, and it had grown, and now it was glorious in its colorful autumn coat.

As she and Spock stepped out onto the sidewalk and removed their luggage from the taxi, she heard a squeal and a shout, and she turned to see Milele flying down the steps.

"Nyota! You're here!"

"Yes!" Uhura laughed. "I'm finally here!"

When they embraced, Uhura looked up to see Yusufu and Sefu emerge from the front door, and she held out her arm to give each of them a brief hug as she commented on how tall Sefu had become and how good it was to see them. She was very aware of Spock standing by the luggage. As soon as she could extricate herself, she stepped back to stand beside him.

So proud that she thought she might burst, she said, "Everyone, this is Spock. Spock, this is Milele, Yusufu, and Sefu."

He nodded with dignity. "Greetings. Thank you for inviting me into your home."

"Believe me, it's our pleasure!" Milele motioned toward the luggage. "Sefu, why don't you help Aunt Nyota and Commander Spock with their luggage, and we'll all go inside."

Clearly awestruck, Sefu darted forward to grab Uhura's suitcase, and Spock bent to pick up his own bag. Spock's back was turned for only an instant, but Milele managed to catch Uhura's eye and mouth 'Oh my God,' pretending to swoon, before he faced her again. Uhura grinned and nodded.

As soon as Milele ushered them all into the house, Uhura walked through the living area with her carry-on bag. "Did you put us back in the guest room?"

"No, you two are up in Sefu's room. I turned the guest room into an office."

Uhura stopped in surprise, but before she could say anything, Sefu spoke up.

"Auntie Nyota, Mum couldn't wait for me to move out so she could turn the guest room into an office, and my room into the guest room."

Playfully indignant, Milele said, "That's not so! You know that'll always be your room, son. I just, uh, redecorated it a bit. Anyway, it's much nicer up there than in the old guest room. You two will be able to look out the window now and see more than just a brick wall."

Uhura glanced over to see that Spock was frowning slightly as Yusufu lifted the strap of the small bag off her shoulder.

"Here, Nyota, let me take your bag. Sefu and I will carry these things upstairs. You two have a seat and make yourselves comfortable. May I take your suitcase, Spock?"

"Yes, thank you."

Milele vanished into the kitchen, leaving Spock and Uhura alone. Still frowning, he walked over to stand near her.

His voice very quiet, he said, "Your sister has evidently placed us both in the same-"

Forestalling what she was sure would be an objection to their sleeping arrangement, Uhura held up her hands.

"Spock, if you're worried about 'propriety,' relax! She's my sister. Of course she knows about us. And Sefu's nineteen years old. He's old enough that he won't be shocked if we sleep in the same bed. Besides, there's not another bedroom in the house, and I'm sure that Sefu's sleeping on the sofa tonight, so unless you want to sleep on the floor, you're in the same bed with me. Because I'm sleeping in that bed."

"What about your parents? I happen to know that you have withheld certain details about our relationship from them."

She looked at him for a moment, then called out, "Milele? Are Mother and Father spending the night?"

Milele answered from the kitchen. "No, they're only going to be able to stay for the day tomorrow."

Uhura shook her head. "Thirty-six years old, and I still worry that my mother will find out about my sex life. I guess there are some things neither she nor I will ever outgrow."

He regarded her closely. "It is possible that they will ask where we are sleeping."

"I guarantee you that it won't even come up."

Milele emerged from the kitchen with a tray. As she placed it on the low table in front of the sofa, she said, "One of the cardinal rules of parenting is 'Don't ask the question if you don't want to know the answer.'"

Clearly unsettled at having been overheard, Spock raised both eyebrows and took a deep breath. Uhura saw that the gesture also expressed capitulation, however, so she grinned and quickly whispered, "You'll be glad later that I talked you into it."

He met her gaze and didn't comment, but she felt the heat rush to her face at the look in his eyes. _Yes_, he was telling her, _and so will you_.

Smiling back at him, she suddenly became aware that Milele was waiting with two glasses of ice water. Although all she wanted was to stand there and look into his eyes, she turned away from their communication of silent promises so that they could find a seat on the sofa. A moment later, Yusufu and Sefu joined them, and soon everyone was embroiled in a discussion of what was to happen tomorrow and everything that had to be accomplished today.

End chapter 1


	2. Chapter 2

Bells Through the Leaves, chapter 2

Tossing her robe onto a nearby chair, Uhura sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed her shoulder. Milele had worked them all mercilessly this afternoon, hardly giving her guests time to finish their drinks before she pulled out her list of chores. Uhura had washed windows, polished the old brass light fixtures, carted dishes from the pantry to the kitchen and out to the table, and even gone next door to ask the neighbors if they were willing to donate any cut flowers. She'd enjoyed herself, though. There was something exciting about the preparations for an event like this, and the best part of all had been watching Spock interact with her family.

Although she knew that he felt a bit awkward among these informal, outspoken humans who acted like they already knew him, she could see that he was trying very hard to fit in. When she was washing the back windows, she looked up to see him and Sefu in the back garden trying to figure out the best way to put up Milele's tiny paper lanterns. Sefu still looked like he was a bit afraid of this imposing Vulcan, but he had loosened up enough to laugh at what must have been some sort of wry comment on Spock's part. Later, while sorting through the china in the cupboard, she had eavesdropped as Spock and Yusufu sliced vegetables and discussed the local team's prospects in the upcoming World Cup match. And when Milele had handed Spock the hedge trimmers while apologizing profusely for making him work so hard on his vacation, he had matter-of-factly replied that he was content simply to be here and pleased that he was able to help.

The bed shifted when he sat beside her. "Are you sore, Nyota?"

"I don't think I've ached this much since my first day of cadet physical training. I'd forgotten how much hard work it takes to keep one of these old houses clean."

"Allow me."

Gently pushing her fingers out of the way, he gripped her shoulders in his strong hands and began to massage them. She closed her eyes and relaxed. Somehow, he seemed to know where she hurt the most, meticulously easing each knot from her muscles before locating the next. She swayed, so limp that she could hardly sit upright.

"Spock, if I stretch out, will you keep doing this?"

"Yes, of course."

She looked up at him innocently. "If I take my nightgown off, will you keep doing this?"

"Ah... Perhaps for a short time."

Quickly shedding her clothing, she stretched out on her stomach, closed her eyes, and waited expectantly. He didn't touch her immediately, though, and she heard a slight rustling before the bed sagged next to her. She grinned when she felt his bare leg brush against her own.

Not opening her eyes, she murmured, "I thought I was going to get a backrub."

"You are."

She knew without turning her head that he had reclined next to her, for his radiant heat baked her entire left side, and she felt his breath against her shoulder. His closeness was so tempting. All day, she'd longed for his touch, and she knew that if she rolled over right now, she'd find herself in his arms. She really wanted this backrub, however, so she willed herself to remain motionless.

Finally, he situated himself and cupped her neck in his hand, squeezing carefully and running his fingers through her hair to knead her scalp. Next, he rubbed her shoulders and her back, and she couldn't help but moan softly as he unhurriedly worked his way across her lower back and down to her legs. Although he didn't touch her sexually, instead shifting position so that he could reach her calves and her feet, she felt herself becoming aroused as she imagined his fingers touching her everywhere.

Evidently he had the same thought, because when he stretched out again next to her, he covered her leg with his own and began to nibble on her shoulder. She could feel his erection against her hip, and when he trailed his fingers up the inside of her thigh, she shivered and spread her legs to give him better access.

Soon he was exploring her, his lips and teeth insistent against the back of her neck while his long fingers probed her most intimate places. She could picture his face-his expression would be soft yet intense as he played her as skillfully as he played his Vulcan harp-and suddenly she couldn't remain still a moment longer. Turning onto her side with her back to him, she hooked her ankle around his leg so that he could continue to caress her.

"I want to feel you inside me while you touch me like this," she said huskily.

"Yes," he groaned. "Ah, yes."

He shifted so that his hardness pressed against her, and she pushed back until he slid in. She heard his gasp when he entered her, and he was very still for a moment before he began to pump slowly.

She closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensations. His chest against her back, the wiry muscles covered by a layer of soft hair. His fingers between her legs, knowingly touching her just the way she liked to be touched. His penis moving leisurely in and out of her body, filling her so wonderfully. She whimpered slightly when he removed his fingers, but an instant later she felt them press against her temple, her own juices damp against her skin. The link burst into place between them, joining them as soon as he touched her. She noticed remotely that it seemed to become easier to establish a link every time they were together, but the thought disappeared as soon as he returned his fingers to their task below.

He moved faster, his breath coming in hard pants as he held her tight. His touch was no longer delicate, and he stroked her with such increasing pressure that the contact started to become painful. It was exquisite pain, though, and she ground herself against him, seeking the release that she knew would be hers in another instant.

Clamping her lips together so she wouldn't cry out when she came, she tensed and arched her back, digging her fingers into the back of his thigh and pulling him into her as deeply as she could. Abruptly, though, it wasn't enough-she wanted more of him, she wanted to feel his strength, and she wanted him to pound into her so hard that it caused the breath to rush from her lungs. Able to read her sudden hunger, he flipped her onto her hands and knees and slammed into her with a violence she had never known he possessed. She could feel his shock at his actions through the link, but it was forgotten a moment later when he began to pump so furiously that she had to grip the bedsheets in her hands just to keep from sliding on the bed.

She closed her eyes tightly, still concentrating. Now, however, the sensations were not subtle, nor were they soothing. Loud in her ears were the sounds of their exertions, all in perfect rhythm with his every thrust: the wet slapping of his body against hers, his loud, hoarse breathing, the barely discernible creaking of the bed, the harsh gasps from her own throat. Her breasts seemed suddenly pendulous as they swayed, slick with perspiration, and the muscles in her abdomen began to ache from the strain of curving her torso and pushing back against him. She could smell her own musky odor, and she felt a wetness at the top of her thigh as her juices dribbled down her leg.

With a fierce shudder, he gripped her hips and held her immobile as he drove into her one last time. Through the link, she could feel the incredible self-control it took for him to remain silent as his entire being seemed to pour into her body, and she was swept away in the intensity of his orgasm. This time, she couldn't stop herself from crying out, but somehow she found the presence of mind to choke off her ecstatic cry before it became loud enough for the other occupants of the house to hear.

Finally, she opened her eyes to realize that he had lowered himself onto her back, his weight supported by his hand on the bed. His other hand was still on her hip. She could feel a throbbing between her legs as the blood emptied from her engorged flesh.

His breathing was ragged in her ear. "Nyota, I am sorry."

She turned her head slightly in surprise so that she could just barely see his face. His eyes were closed and his lips were parted, and he looked like he was in pain.

Slipping away from him, she rolled onto her back and drew him down with her.

"What is it, Spock? Wasn't it good for you?"

His eyes were troubled when he looked at her. "I did not mean to take you with such force. My control... I allowed my control to slip and my most primal urges to take command of my actions."

Smiling gently, she pushed his hair away from his forehead. She'd never known him to perspire before, but the dampness on his skin was unmistakable.

"In case you've forgotten, you didn't exactly 'take' me. I gave myself freely."

"I am aware of that, but I also know that you were surprised by what happened."

"All right, maybe I wasn't expecting quite that, but even though I'm not usually into the rough stuff, I found it wildly exciting. You know that I did." She paused until he nodded, then continued. "And to be honest, it excites me even more to hear you use words like 'most primal urges.' I didn't know that you had anything like that in you. It makes me wonder what else I don't know about you."

He gazed at her for a long moment as if he had something more to say on the matter, but eventually he placed his hands on either side of her face and kissed her tenderly.

"I would never hurt you, Nyota," he whispered.

She blinked, unable to answer at first. Finally, she said, "I know."

Shifting his weight so that he wouldn't crush her, he placed his head on the pillow and began to gently trace her features with his fingertips. His touch was soothing, and in almost no time she closed her eyes and felt herself drift into sleep.

...

When Nyota's breathing had slowed and he knew she was asleep, he rolled onto his back and gazed at the ceiling. What had just happened? She had dismissed it as being nothing more than a new facet of their physical relationship, but he thought that it was more significant than that.

He had missed his chance to tell her about pon farr while they were at the beach on Relan Four. The opportunity had presented itself, but he had allowed the moment to pass. Why? Had he so feared her reaction to the disclosure of what he would become at his Time? He had said just moments ago that he would never hurt her, but in truth could he really make such a promise? While their experience tonight was not as intense as the plak tow, it was similar enough to have shaken him. From whom had the desire sprung? She assumed that it had been her idea when she urged him to become forceful, but was it possible that he had actually kindled her desire through the link first? Or was she correct, and had her own strong desires inflamed his?

In addition, their link had seemed to form almost spontaneously, leaping into existence with only the barest effort. Even now, he could still detect the vague murmur of her thoughts as she slept.

Perhaps tomorrow he would meditate and attempt to determine what it all meant. Tonight, however, he was too exhausted.

Turning onto his side, he studied her peaceful profile until he could not hold his eyes open any longer.

...

"Nyota, wake up. It is 0700 hours."

She was sprawled on her stomach. He knew that she heard him, but instead of opening her eyes, she turned away from him and burrowed deeper under the covers.

He moved closer so that he could see her face. "Nyota, you indicated that you did not wish to sleep late this morning. It is 0700 hours and the other members of the household have begun to stir."

"Mmmm..."

She licked her lips, but soon her breathing became regular again. He looked toward the door as footsteps approached from the left and receded to the right.

"Nyota, it is 0700 hours. Your parents will arrive in approximately twenty-one minutes."

"What?" She rolled over and pushed her hair away from her face. "Oh my gosh, really?"

"No, but you were ignoring me, and it is time to get up."

Laughing, she pushed him away from her. "You have a sadistic streak. Don't scare me like that!"

Not at all regretful, he said, "Forgive me."

Her face softened as she smiled at him. "I don't know. Convince me."

"Very well."

He pulled her into his arms, but just as he bent to kiss her, the footsteps returned, this time moving from right to left. He lifted his head and wondered if they would stop at the door this time. They didn't, receding once again into the distance.

Sighing, she said, "I guess we do need to get up. Do you want to take the first shower?"

"You may go first. I intend to ask Milele if there are any last-minute tasks I may complete before I prepare for the day."

"Good idea."

She sat on the edge of the bed and stretched, then picked up her discarded nightgown from the floor and stood. Before she moved away, however, he reached out and stopped her.

Frowning, he said, "Would you turn this way?"

"What is it?"

Positioning her so that he could look at her hip, he traced his fingers along the very clear red and purple outline of his hand. When he looked at the other side of her body, he saw another.

Not knowing what to say, he looked up and met her gaze.

She touched him lightly on the face. "It's all right, Spock. Really. I've bruised and scratched _you_, and remember that time I accidentally poked you in the eye? It happens. I know how strong you are, and normally you go to great lengths to hold back. This time, we just got a little overly enthusiastic."

He swallowed. "I am truly sorry, Nyota. Are you in pain?"

"Not at all."

He brushed his fingers against the dark purple area. When she flinched, he said, "Just as I suspected."

"I guess it hurts a little. But it's not bad." She kissed him. "Really. I'm going to take a shower now, so I'll see you in a bit."

He nodded and watched her walk into the bathroom. Gazing at the door as it closed behind her, he took a deep breath, then rose to get dressed.

End chapter 2


	3. Chapter 3

Bells Through the Leaves, chapter 3

Brandishing a new bottle of wine, Milele walked through the room and searched for empty glasses, chatting and laughing, patting the occasional shoulder, and checking to ensure that all of her platters still offered a variety of foods. As she passed the back window, she saw that it was finally dark enough outside that she could light her little lanterns, so she swung by the computer and quietly instructed it to turn them on. Beautiful! There were about a dozen guests standing out in the back garden, and they all smiled with appreciation before returning to their conversations.

She looked across the room to where her handsome son talked with two of his schoolmates. She had been so proud of him today-only nineteen, but graduating with honors from nothing less than the Centaurus Academy of the Arts and Sciences at London! When he had expressed his desire to begin university a full year ahead of schedule, she'd had her doubts, but when he enrolled in CAAS/L, she had been utterly horrified. She'd seen two of her friends' children wash out of that school just because they couldn't adapt to the long Centauran calendar, not to mention the fact that the classes were monstrously difficult. But her child had stuck it out, and tomorrow he would leave for his new job with the Hong Kong division of Cochrane Industries.

Glancing up, he met her eyes and smiled his dazzling smile. Sometimes he looked so much like his father, tall and dark with those beautiful eyelashes and high cheekbones, but when he smiled he was all hers, down to the dimple in his cheek and the way he crinkled his eyes. As they looked at one another across the room, he gave her a thumbs-up, just as he'd done since he was a little boy and he had liked the present she'd picked out for his birthday, or he'd scored the game-winning goal in a junior league game. She smiled and returned the gesture, but she had to turn away before he saw the sudden tear that threatened to spill down her cheek.

As she walked over to the sofa and refilled a wine glass, she reminded herself that life is change. Children grow up, men get married, women have babies. Old people fade while young people grow strong. Sons move away, but someday they come back. Hearing a familiar laugh from the front of the room, she grinned and shook her head. Sisters venture to the farthest stars, and return home with a Vulcan boyfriend in tow.

She wandered in the direction of the laugh. Nyota was standing near the front window talking with the parents of one of Sefu's chums while Spock stood at her elbow and participated in a second conversation with Yusufu, Father, and Grandfather. She couldn't get over how striking that man was. He'd looked good yesterday when he arrived, completely unrumpled despite twenty-odd hours in transit, but today he looked incredible. He was wearing formal black robes with writing on the front that evidently had something to do with the status of his family, and the severe Vulcan style made him look inches taller and, to be honest, more than a bit forbidding. That was part of his allure, though, and she'd been tickled to watch the reactions of her friends when they met this dignified, intimidating man. If only they could have seen him yesterday standing on the garden wall and weaving a string of paper lanterns through the branches with Sefu!

She stopped when she heard a voice at her elbow.

"Oh, Milele. Look at her. If she smiled any wider, her face would break."

Milele turned toward her mother. "I know. You should have seen her yesterday when they arrived. She was positively glowing."

Kasida Uhura frowned slightly and glanced back over at her younger daughter. "Do you think she's in love with him?"

Milele rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. "Mother! How many years has it been since you had your vision checked? She's wild about him. She adores him!"

"Don't you talk to your mother like that, young lady."

Milele laughed. "Well, you deserved it. Of course she loves him. Can't you tell?"

"Yes, I can tell that she loves him. It's just... It's just that she's my baby and I want her to be happy. He seems like a very nice man, but Nyota is such a warm, open, emotional woman. I don't want her to make any bad choices."

"You mean that you're worried about the fact that he's a Vulcan."

"If we're going to be blunt, yes I am. Oh, I know that she's known him for years and trusts him, and everything that I've heard and seen about him tells me that he's kind to her-"

"Mother." Milele rested a gentle hand on her mother's arm. "He's a good man. He makes her very happy. Remember how impressed you were when you heard Yusufu call me 'Azizi' for the first time? You knew from his use of the old-fashioned Swahili endearment that I was his 'valued thing,' and that he'd treasure me forever. Well, maybe you'll never hear a Vulcan declare something like that in public, but that doesn't mean that the sentiment isn't there. Trust me on this. She's his azizi."

As if in confirmation of Milele's words, Spock and Nyota happened to look away from their separate conversations at the same moment and meet one another's eyes. Although they did not linger, that brief, stolen instant of shared intimacy spoke louder than anything else Milele could have said. Kasida was quiet as she gazed across the room at her daughter.

Finally, she slipped her hand around Milele's elbow and leaned close.

"I'm going over there so I can get to know Nyota's friend better. Something tells me that he might be around for a while."

Milele smiled. "I hope you're right."

Returning the smile, Kasida said, "So do I. Come on, let's go see what those men are talking about. Nothing good, I'm sure."

Milele laughed and followed her mother across the room.

...

"Good night. Thank you for coming!"

Waving goodbye to her last guest, Milele closed the front door and immediately kicked her shoes into a corner. "Whew! That went well, don't you think?"

"Oh yes, it was a lovely party." Uhura stacked empty glasses on the low table in front of the sofa. "Everyone commented on how nice the house and the garden looked, and they loved the food. Especially those tiny little quiches. Where in the world did Yusufu find fresh asparagus this time of year?"

"I'm not sure, really. You'll have to ask him when he gets back."

"He was good to take Mother, Father, and Grandfather to the spaceport this late." She shook her head. "Mother just amazes me sometimes. She delayed their flight twice, but she wouldn't stay overnight. They're all going to be so tired tomorrow that they won't even be able to function."

Picking up an empty tray, Milele chuckled and walked over to the sofa. "Father told me that he was trying to talk her into staying tonight, but she wouldn't listen to him. As usual."

"Poor Father! Overruled again."

Milele lowered her voice. "Did I ever tell you how Yusufu describes all the men in this family?"

"No. How?"

"He says that they're all pussy-whipped." Milele leaned close. "And I'd say that the newest man around here isn't any exception."

"You know that he can hear you."

Milele's eyes grew big. "No!"

"Sure. He's only in the kitchen, not next door."

"Here." Milele shoved the empty tray into her sister's hands. "You take this into the kitchen. I think I'll go out back and start putting away the chairs."

Uhura grinned as she walked into the kitchen with the tray and placed it on the counter by Spock's elbow. Turning off the water, he looked in her direction.

"You are amused by something?"

"Did you hear what Milele just said?"

"No, I did not."

She sidled up next to him. "She said that you're pussy-whipped, just like the other men in this family."

"I am unfamiliar with that expression."

"Pussy-whipped? Well, it's a crude way of describing men whose lives are dominated by women. Similar to 'hen-pecked.'"

He looked away, then raised both eyebrows and nodded. "That is not an entirely inaccurate description. Between you and Saavik, and to some extent Margaret, it does seem that my life has been dominated by rather outspoken women recently. And we have not even been to see my grandmother yet."

"What? You aren't hen-pecked!"

He glanced quickly at the kitchen door, then stepped so close that she had to crane her neck to see his face. "Ah, but if I understand the most literal use of the term, I am most definitely 'pussy-whipped.'"

Before she could reply, they heard the back door open. He moved as if to back away, but she placed her hand on his chest to stop him.

"And don't you ever forget it," she whispered.

Looking back over her shoulder as she left the kitchen, she saw that he was watching her with a raised eyebrow. She held his eyes until she was into the other room. When she turned around, she almost collided with Milele, who had just come in from the back garden carrying four folding chairs.

"Nyota! Quit making eyes at your boyfriend and watch where you're going."

"Sorry. Here. Let me take two of those."

They leaned the chairs against the wall, then Milele turned and looked around the room. Yawning, she said, "You know, this can all wait until morning. Yusufu should be home any minute now, and I'm sure Sefu will be out with his friends until some ungodly hour. Let's just call it a night."

Uhura heard Spock's voice behind her. "There is still a great deal of work to be done, Milele. I am certain that you will regret it in the morning if you postpone putting your home back in order."

Uhura glanced up to see that Spock was standing at her shoulder. She really wanted to go on to bed, but she felt guilty caving in so quickly. Trying to sound like she meant it, she said, "Spock's right. We can stay up and work on this for at least a little while longer."

"No," said Milele. "I'm too tired. I'd rather wait."

"All right. You convinced me." Turning toward Spock, Uhura said, "Let's go on up. We'll deal with this tomorrow."

Spock regarded her for a moment, then looked over at Milele. "Would it be in my best interest to object, or should I simply say 'Yes, dear' and comply?"

Laughing at Spock's obvious reference to Milele's earlier comment, Uhura watched as her sister's face turned bright red. Poor Milele. Her skin was just enough lighter than Uhura's that she'd never been able to avoid telegraphing embarrassment.

Retrieving her shoes from the corner, Milele said, "If you two want to keep working, that's up to you, but I think that this is an ideal time for me to say goodnight and beat a hasty retreat. See you in the morning."

"Goodnight." Uhura watched as Milele climbed the stairs, then turned toward Spock. "So how about it?" she said suggestively. "Do you want to go to bed?"

He brushed his fingers across her cheek. "Yes. I want to go to bed."

...

Roused by the sound of muffled voices, Uhura opened her eyes to discover that the room was dark and gray. Wasn't it too early for everyone to be up? Right before she had fallen asleep last night, she had crept from the bed and opened the curtains so that she could see the leaves and the sun when she awoke. Looking at the window now, though, she saw that the leaves were damp and the sky was overcast. So that's why the room was so dark. It was raining.

She turned over and was surprised to find that she was alone, but when she listened to the voices below, she realized that one of them was Spock's. She couldn't make out the words, but it sounded like he and Yusufu were walking out the front door. Maybe they were getting ready to take the folding chairs back to the rental agency.

Promising herself that she would get up to help in five minutes, she snuggled down under the covers and thought about the night before. No wonder she was so tired this morning-Spock had said that he wanted to explore her mind before they made love last night, and they had ended up staying awake until nearly 2:00 am. His request had surprised her a little. They touched thoughts often, but it was almost always during sex. Last night, he had said that he wanted to do something different.

The experience had been nice. Although she loved the combination of mental and physical intimacy that they shared so often, there was something to be said for a real mind-meld rather than a sexual link. Somehow, it seemed more concrete, a true communion of thoughts and beliefs rather than an almost gut-level sharing of one another's desire and pleasure. She had seen clearly how much he missed her, and without forming a conscious thought, she had conveyed how her heart sang at that knowledge. And when he had finally allowed his hands to move from her face to other parts of her body, their lovemaking had been slow and tender, without even the slightest sense of urgency, and it seemed at the time like it could have lasted all night. As a matter of fact, it couldn't have possibly been more different than their raw, almost animal-like passion of the night before.

She rolled onto her back. Now that she thought about it, there was something else different last night, something other than the type of mental contact and the slow, relaxed pace. Spock had been unusually cautious and in-control, and at no point had he completely abandoned his restraint. He had treated her like she was fragile, as if he feared he might break her. While it was nice to be cherished occasionally, she would have to make sure he understood that she was fine with what had happened two nights ago. For she was sure that what happened two nights ago had prompted the change in his behavior last night.

Rising from the bed, she picked up her robe and headed for the shower. It was a good thing she loved that man so much, because understanding him was a constant challenge.

End chapter 3


	4. Chapter 4

Bells Through the Leaves, chapter 4

"Look at that! It's incredible, Spock."

Supported by the railing, Nyota leaned as close to the forcefield as possible and peered at the luminous golden article in the middle of the case. Her utter enchantment reminded him of the pure joy Saavik displayed whenever she discovered something new. Although he always welcomed the opportunity to study an object of antiquity such as the Mask of Tutankhamen, he decided that he was much more interested in Nyota's reaction. He turned to study her instead.

She moved over to make room for a little boy who was trying to squeeze closer. Bending slightly in his direction, she said, "Do you know who that mask was made for?"

His eyes big, the child looked up at her and shook his head.

"It was made for a king who lived in Egypt many, many years ago. He was a very famous king, and everyone loved him. His name was King Tutankhamen, but that's a big name so most people just call him King Tut."

Although it was obvious she had the boy's attention, he just continued to stare at her without saying anything. She glanced up at Spock before turning back.

"Would you mind telling me how old you are?"

"Eight," the boy mumbled.

"Eight! You won't believe how old King Tut was when he became king. He was only nine years old."

"Whoa." The boy looked at the case.

"You have fun here at the museum." She smiled at the man who stood on the other side of the boy, then faced Spock. "Are you ready to move on?"

"Yes."

As they strolled away from the exhibit, Nyota chuckled. "Did you see the look on that little boy's face? It makes me wish that we had Saavik with us."

"I must admit that I had the same thought. She would find the contents of this museum intriguing. If we ever bring her to an institution of this type, however, we must allow ourselves at least a full day to explore."

"Are you kidding? We could spend a week here with Saavik and she wouldn't run out of questions. It would be fun, though. Maybe we can do something like this the next time we're with her."

"She would enjoy that. Are you hungry?"

"Yes, very."

"What would you like to eat?"

They walked slowly across the lobby. "Anything but pub food, since that's probably what we'll eat tonight. By the way, are you positive that you're willing to let me drag you along on that pub tour? It's not exactly your kind of thing."

"I am positive. You will enjoy it, and I am certain that I will find the observation of local customs fascinating. You did not have the opportunity to dine at a Chinese restaurant with your parents. Would you like to find one now?"

"Sure. That sounds good."

They wove their way through a group of schoolchildren entering the museum and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Spock was pleased to see that the rain had ceased while they were inside, but the clouds still hung ominously overhead and the air was heavy with a damp coolness. They had to choose their path carefully to avoid puddles and small piles of wet, colorful leaves.

He pulled his jacket higher onto his shoulders and sealed it. "The wind is rather cutting when it blows between the large buildings."

"Yes, it is. I hope you brought plenty of warm clothes."

"I did."

"Good." She pushed her hands into her pockets as they stepped down from the curb. "Next time we visit Saavik, do you think that we can find a decent museum?"

"The answer to that question will depend on your definition of 'decent.' It is my understanding that there are two relatively large museums on Gamma Cygnus. One contains a number of artifacts that belonged to the colony's founding families. The other, an agricultural science museum, is dedicated to the digestive and reproductive systems of the various species of livestock the colonists introduced to the planet."

She grimaced. "Personally, I'd enjoy the historical museum, but I would bet good money that's not the one Saavik would choose."

"And I would not wager against you if you did."

She laughed and leaned just close enough to brush against his arm as they approached Soho Square. Gazing through the trees at the large statue in the middle of the square, she said, "Who is that?"

"According to the information on your padd, it is a depiction of King Charles the Second."

"This is a nice little park. I would imagine that these benches are full on sunny days." She took a deep breath. "Here I am making plans for a visit with Saavik, but I have no idea when we might be able to get together again. Do you?"

"I cannot predict, Nyota. So far, we have been fortunate in our ability to schedule leave at the same time. The Enterprise is preparing to return to patrol in Sector Three, however, and I fear that the increased activity among the Klingons will make it difficult for me to leave the ship for quite some time."

"I know." She was quiet as they stepped over a puddle and crossed the street. "When the Lexington was there, we detected an increase in coded communications. I'm afraid you might find your hands full when you return to patrol."

"If you and I are vigilant, perhaps an opportunity to see one another will present itself."

She grinned suddenly. He could detect a note of wistfulness in her eyes, but she did not allow it to carry through to her voice. "What's this about 'waiting for an opportunity to present itself'? Surely a couple of resourceful people like us can create our own opportunities. We'll figure out a way."

"I have always maintained that you are one of the most resourceful people I know."

"You bet."

Still smiling, she held his eyes for a moment longer before looking ahead. They had just crossed another street and come upon a row of elegantly restored old buildings, all fronted with large glass windows through which an eclectic collection of dusty, leather-bound volumes could be seen.

"Oh, Spock! Look at these bookstores. Can we explore a couple of them before we eat?"

"Of course."

He pushed open the first ornamental, heavy door they encountered, and ushered her into the building ahead of him.

...

"Excuse me. Pardon me."

Murmuring politely, Milele squeezed through the crowd and worked her way toward the tall, dark figure standing by the bar. She wasn't too sure that anyone could hear her, though. Between the piano, the singing, and the voices that were trying to compete with the piano and the singing, the din was deafening. If Spock had been able to hear her from the kitchen yesterday, she could only imagine what this was like for him.

He turned when he realized that she stood next to him. "Would you care for another beverage?" he asked loudly over the noise.

"Yes, please. I think I'll try some bitter this time."

Glancing over her head in the direction of the piano, he said, "I will assume that Nyota is not yet ready for another drink."

"Probably not, although I can guarantee that she'll want one pretty soon. Whether she actually needs it or not is another question."

Raising an eyebrow, he met her eyes and nodded. When the bartender set a bottle of spring water and a glass in front of him, he leaned across the bar and ordered her drink. Within moments, he accepted the foaming, overflowing glass, and as he handed it to her he pointed toward a relatively uncongested area by the wall. She led the way, trying very hard to put one foot in front of the other without spilling any of her beer. She'd had more than just a couple of these, and maneuvering was a little trickier than she had expected.

Finally, they reached their destination. Placing her glass on the small shelf that ran the distance of the wall, she took a deep breath. "Whew! This is much better. Not so hot and crowded. It's a little quieter, too."

"I agree."

They sipped their drinks and watched the group gathered around the piano. Nyota and Yusufu, right in the middle of the revelers, were standing with their arms around each other and singing at the top of their lungs. Milele couldn't make out all of the words, but she heard just enough to know that it was not meant for polite company.

"It does not surprise me that Nyota would participate in such an impromptu performance," said Spock, "but I did not expect it from Yusufu."

Milele chuckled. "He loves to sing as much as Nyota does, so he usually gives in pretty easily when she tries to persuade him to join her. They have a lot of fun together."

"They have done this before?"

"Many times. Back at the University of Kenya when Yusufu and I had just begun to date, Nyota came up for a weekend and they hit it off so well I was a little afraid he would decide he liked her better. We went out to one of the local night spots, and I hardly saw either of them all evening long. I shouldn't have worried, though. The big difference between them is that while Nyota's ready to have fun at the drop of a hat, Yusufu is basically a homebody. If he gets too wild, he'll be embarrassed tomorrow." Peering at Spock over the rim of her glass, she thought of the discussion they'd had when they left the house earlier this evening. "By the way, do you see now why it's called a pub crawl instead of a pub walk?"

"Yes. I was able to determine that some time ago. Am I correct in assuming that the designation is primarily intended to be humorous? While there are several patrons here who likely will be unable to walk home later, none of them are on the tour with us."

"You've got it. So what do you think about this? It's no fun being the only sober person among a group of drunks, or at least that's what I'm told." She smiled so that he'd know she was kidding about that last bit. "Are you enjoying yourself at all?"

"I am finding this experience most intriguing. The atmosphere here is quite different than that of other establishments I have frequented in the past. Granted, I do not have an extensive sampling upon which to base such a conclusion, but I would venture to say that the British pubs are unique. The names alone are worthy of further study. This pub, for example-'The Phoenix and Firken'-is most oddly named, but I have asked several people and no one seems to know from where the moniker came. The cuisine is unusual as well: 'bangers and mash,' for example, and 'toad in the hole.'"

"I promise you we don't really eat toads here in England."

He looked like he was almost smiling as he opened his mouth to retort, but a sudden drop in the noise level diverted their attention. Looking up, they saw the piano player leave his seat, and Nyota waved at them before meandering in their direction. Milele couldn't help but notice that Spock straightened as her sister came near. What a wonderful, devoted man. Really, she just wanted to hug him. Thank heavens she wasn't drunk enough to actually do it.

"Hi! How's it going?" Nyota's eyes were bright.

"Everything's great." Milele made room for her. "Where'd Yusufu go?"

"He's getting us drinks." She looked up at Spock. "Are you doing all right?"

He gazed down at her, his expression soft. "Yes. And you?"

"I'm having a wonderful time. Everyone's so nice, and I haven't sung some of those songs for years!" Swaying slightly, she grasped Spock's arm and leaned closer. Her enunciation was very careful. "Thank you for coming along with me on this. You're such a good sport."

"Being here is not a hardship. Even if it were, however, I would not begrudge it because you are enjoying yourself so tremendously."

Beginning to wonder if she should find someplace else to go, Milele saw with relief that Yusufu was approaching with two glasses full of a rich, dark liquid.

"Here you go, Nyota."

"Thank you, Yusufu. I'm so thirsty I can hardly stand it." She took a large drink, then held it out toward Spock. "Do you want to try it?"

Accepting the glass, he lifted it to his nose and sniffed cautiously. "What is it?"

"Guinness. Go ahead, take a sip."

"No, thank you. I am certain that the taste would not be any more appealing than the odor."

A loud voice rang out over the hubbub. "Everyone with the pub tour, it's time to go to 'The Lamb and Flag.' Take a few minutes to finish your drink, and we'll meet outside."

Retrieving her drink from Spock, Nyota said unnecessarily, "That's us!"

Milele made a face as Yusufu and Nyota downed their Guinness. Personally, she thought that the stuff was vile, and she laughed when she saw a reflection of her own distaste in Spock's expression.

They all placed their glasses on the shelf and walked toward the door.

End chapter 4


	5. Chapter 5

Bells Through the Leaves, chapter 5

Grimacing, Uhura licked her lips and rolled onto her side, then groaned as her brain sloshed around in her skull to adjust to her new position. She opened one eye and winced. Maybe the light coming in from the window was gray, but it was still much too bright. As she squeezed her eyelids shut again, it registered that Spock was sitting in the chair next to the window with his eyes closed, apparently meditating. Shit! Now he was going to have to witness her sorry, hungover state. And to make it even worse, she couldn't remember how she got home last night-not a good sign. She said a quick prayer in hopes that she hadn't acted like too much of an idiot.

"Spock." Her voice was so deep it sounded like a man's.

She swallowed quickly when the edge of the bed sagged beside her.

"Yes, Nyota?"

"Could you close the curtains?"

"Of course." The edge of the bed lifted, and she heard his footsteps cross the room. When the curtains rustled, he said, "Is that more acceptable?"

"Yes, thanks."

She peeked at him as he sat next to her again.

Concern in his expression, he said, "You opened them when we came in last night, and I assumed that you wished them to remain that way. I am sorry that they disturbed you."

"S'okay."

"Here." He lifted a glass and a small tablet from the nightstand. "Milele told me to have you take this last night, but you refused. It will make you feel better."

She pushed herself up on her elbow and put the pill on her tongue, then drank a few small swallows of water. Ignoring the sudden lurching of her stomach, she eased herself back down on the pillow and closed her eyes again.

"I'm so sorry, Spock."

"You are the one who is ill. For what are you apologizing?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure there's something."

He made a small sound, almost like a chuckle.

Frowning, she muttered, "It's not funny!"

"I am not laughing."

Opening one eye, she couldn't help but smile. "Sorry. Of course you aren't." She rolled onto her back. "All right. Tell me what I did last night. I'm sure I'll hear it from someone, so you might as well break it to me now."

"You laughed, you sang, and you drank too much beer."

"That's it? No gory details? I didn't stand on the tables and dance?"

"No. Not on the tables, at any rate. And I do not believe that your intent was to dance."

She groaned again. "Did you have to carry me home? Please tell me I didn't pass out."

"I did not have to carry you. You were able to walk with only a small amount of assistance. Indeed, you remained lucid until we were home, at which point you quickly fell asleep."

"What about the others?"

"They also over-indulged, but not to the extent that you did. It was actually rather fascinating to observe each person's behavior after the removal of certain inhibitions. Yusufu became boisterous, and Milele made repeated off-color remarks. For example, when I was helping you up the steps and asked her what I should do with you, she retorted, 'I'd say whatever you want,' even though she fully understood that I was inquiring about what I could do to help you."

"And me?"

"You became... affectionate. I endured quite a bit of teasing at one point in the evening because I was holding your hands, but my purpose was simply to keep your hands from roaming further than appropriate for such a public venue."

She laughed. "See, I told you that I was apologizing for a reason. Really, I'm sorry if I embarrassed you."

"You did not." He was quiet for a moment. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, thanks. Much better. I think I'll go back to sleep for a while. What time do we have to leave for Bath?"

"Do you predict that you will be willing to go?"

"I think so."

"We are expected there at 1100 hours, so we should leave at approximately 1030."

"Would you get me up at 0945, then? I'll just munch on a piece of toast on the way. That'll be the best I can manage, anyway."

"Very well." He brushed his fingers across her forehead. "Sleep well."

She rolled over and closed her eyes, and soon she heard the door open and shut as he left the room.

...

"Pardon me."

The young man looked up from where he was using a small hand-held transporter to sift through the dust, and his eyes grew big. He immediately jumped up and brushed the dirt off his knees.

"Uh, can I help you?" he asked.

"Yes," said Spock. "We are searching for Dr. Helen Singleton."

"Hang on. I'll get her."

Watching him scurry away, Uhura leaned close to Spock and murmured, "He couldn't have been more than seventeen years old. I'm surprised to see someone so young on a dig of this importance."

Spock knelt to examine the equipment the boy had been using. "Dr. Singleton is a teacher. I would assume that she allows her students to assist with the more menial jobs. This transporter, for example, has been programmed in such a way that very little expertise is required to operate it."

Lifting her face to the wind, Uhura studied the hills that surrounded the ragged, debris-ridden field. Orderly rows of stately homes looked down upon them, sentinels to the passage of time. Their solemn faces were partially obscured by the colorful trees, but she knew that they had seen much. What was it like here, a thousand years before any of these homes existed? Had goats climbed the hills while ancient people worshipped at the altar of some now-forgotten god? Or had the Romans who made a home here actually tried to tame the hills, planting familiar trees and erecting civilized structures on the sloping ground?

Spock moved close to her. "How do you feel?"

She smiled and looked up at him. "I've felt better, but I think I'll live. Of course, that's the good news. The bad news is that I'm starting to remember more and more about last night. Did I fall down somewhere? My knee is sore, and it seems like I remember stumbling."

"You had some difficulty navigating the steps at the front of the house, but I was able to catch your elbow before you did more than hit your knee. It did not appear to be damaged. Was my judgment in error? Is it extremely painful?"

She shook her head hastily. "Oh, no, it's fine. Just stiff."

They were interrupted by the sight of a thin blonde woman crossing the rubble in their direction. About the same age as Uhura, she carried herself with great dignity despite the fact that her clothes were filthy and she had a smudge of dried mud across her cheek. As she neared, Uhura could see that she was almost as tall as Spock.

Her expression pleasant but solemn, she said, "Commander Spock and Commander Uhura, I presume?"

"Yes. Greetings, Dr. Singleton. Thank you for allowing us access to your excavation."

"I am honored to have you. If you will follow me, I'll show you what we're exploring right now." Without waiting for an answer, she started toward an area covered with large awnings. She looked over her shoulder as she walked. "Have you enjoyed your stay in England?"

"Yes, it's been wonderful." Uhura moved carefully over the uneven surface. "This is such an interesting site. How did you find it?"

The question prompted the tall woman's first smile, and Uhura realized that she was actually very pretty underneath the grime.

"A child found it. While digging in the dirt, she uncovered a coin which she showed to her parents. The parents then took it to the local university, which caused them to investigate."

Spock and Dr. Singleton moved easily across the rough terrain, their long legs carrying them over the obstacles, but Uhura's knee wouldn't cooperate and she was soon left behind. No one noticed her struggle, however, and their voices trailed away as they moved out of hearing range. She gritted her teeth and tried to hurry, resolving to take something for her knee as soon as they got back to Milele's house.

Finally, she drew near enough to see that the other two were walking slowly around the perimeter of a roped-off area. Spock's voice floated clearly on the air.

"Most impressive. I detect the existence of at least three rooms."

Leaning close, Dr. Singleton said, "If you look just beyond the east wall, you'll see evidence of a supporting structure, strongly indicating the presence of a fourth room. In addition, we believe that there was an outer building that served as a residence of sorts, perhaps for a servant or caretaker."

"Fascinating. Do you know which deity was worshipped here?"

"No, we don't have enough clues yet. I'm fairly certain that it was not Sulus Minerva, however."

First they went off without her, and now they were talking in archaeological shorthand. Feeling more than a little left out, Uhura asked, "Who was Sulus Minerva?"

Her irritation must have been evident in her tone, because Spock turned toward her with amusement in his eyes. "Sul was a Celtic deity, and Minerva was the Roman Goddess of healing. The Romans built a temple and baths over the natural hot spring here, thus the name 'Bath.'"

She grinned at having been caught. "I know that much."

Someone called from the other side of the lot. "Dr. Singleton? Could you come here for a minute?"

"I should get back to my students," the tall woman said. "Please feel free to investigate anything that catches your eye."

"You go right ahead," replied Uhura. "We'll be fine. Thanks for letting us look around."

"Indeed. We are most appreciative," added Spock.

Nodding, Dr. Singleton turned and walked briskly across the site. Uhura watched her go, then moved close to Spock.

"What an interesting person. No nonsense there at all."

"She is a dedicated scientist, well-known for her single-minded pursuit of the truth."

Meeting his eyes mischievously, she said, "Not unlike certain other scientists I know. Now, let's take a look around."

...

Turning back the bedspread, Nyota sat heavily on the edge of the mattress and shook her head. "I wish we could have figured out what was written on that piece of marble."

Grateful for the warmth on this chilly night, Spock tied the drawstring on his loose-fitting pants, then shrugged into his shirt as he moved in her direction. "Dr. Singleton is very skilled in her field. If she could not unravel the mystery using the tools at her disposal, we could not expect to study it for a single afternoon and do so ourselves."

"I know. But wouldn't it have been fun! We'll have to check back periodically to see if she's learned anything new." She yawned and rubbed her eyes. "By the way, did you ever reach your parents?"

"The last time I spoke with Mother, she stated that they might stay a day after the end of the conference. Evidently they have done so. I will try them again tomorrow from my grandmother's house." He sat on the bed beside her. Pulling her hands away from her face, he studied her. "You are very tired."

"Yes, I am. I felt pretty good earlier, but last night's excesses have caught up with me, and I feel bad again. I don't think I'm going to want to do anything other than sleep tonight." She smiled gently. "And I don't think that even a backrub will revive me. I'm sorry."

Reminded of the events of three nights ago, Spock frowned slightly, then walked to the other side of the bed. Even through meditation, he had been unable to determine why their encounter had progressed the way it had, and his uneasiness over the entire incident leapt back into the forefront of his thoughts. Although he did not look at her, he heard her movements and knew that she had reclined under the covers. He turned off the light and stretched out next to her.

"Spock?"

He met her eyes. Her face was illuminated gently by the glow of the street lamp outside the window, and she studied him with concern.

Raising herself on her elbow, she said, "Are you still disturbed about what happened the first night we were here? Because if you are, you shouldn't be. I already told you not only that I didn't mind, but that I enjoyed it. I know you wouldn't really hurt me."

He did not know what to say as they gazed at one another. She was so caring, so trusting, so true. How could he tell her that he _was_ capable of hurting her despite his best intentions? That someday he would turn into a raging beast, and that it was possible evolution had not provided her with the stamina to endure his onslaught? That he was withholding information she had every right to know, for fear that she would reject him or, worse, pity him?

That after one year, six months, and eight-point-seven days, he could still convince himself it was not mere cowardice that prevented him from telling her everything?

Misinterpreting his silence, she rested her hand on his arm. "Those bruises were nothing. Believe me, I'll let you know if you're ever too rough. You don't have to treat me like I'm made out of glass."

The silence stretched out between them. She was obviously waiting for him to speak, and he did not wish to disappoint her. Finally, he simply repeated her last statement.

"Like you are made out of glass."

"Yes, like I'm made out of glass. You did treat me as if you might break me, you know, night before last." Wrapping her fingers around his arm, she leaned forward. "It was wonderful, truly it was, tender and beautiful. We don't have to shake the walls every time we make love, but please don't feel like you have to be so careful with me."

She was right, of course. Although he was unable to bring himself to tell her the darkest reasons for his caution two nights ago, he could not hide the fact that he was troubled. He rolled onto his back.

"You are correct, Nyota. I was disturbed over my roughness with you three nights ago. I still am."

"I can tell."

He studied the ceiling. "That is why I asked to mind-meld with you before we became intimate. I did not wish to risk repeating the previous night's behavior, so I chose to create an environment in which I retained control of our reactions. I wished to reestablish 'civility,' if you will. I wished to put us back on the proper footing."

She was quiet for so long that he finally looked back over at her.

"I am sorry that I was not honest with you about my reasons," he said.

Laying her head on his shoulder, she murmured, "Before you ever touched my mind, I always thought that a relationship with a Vulcan would be one in which there were never any misunderstandings or miscommunications. I suppose that's what most humans think."

He wrapped his arm around her back. "And now?"

"I know that for every corner I find in your mind, there's another one still hidden. And I know that if you're not honest with yourself, you can't be honest with me. No matter how hard you try."

She had him there. Raising both eyebrows, he took a deep breath and pulled her tighter, and held her close until she was asleep.

End chapter 5


	6. Chapter 6

Bells Through the Leaves, chapter 6

Spock stepped out of the taxicab and gazed up at the large house on the hill, and then turned to see that Nyota was watching him with a grin on her face.

"You know," she said, "the first time I ever took a boyfriend to meet my grandmother, she pulled out a vid of me in the bathtub when I was two years old. It was horrible."

They started up the long sidewalk toward the front door. As they walked, he saw that his grandmother had changed the color of the trim on the old two-story brick house. Instead of the familiar green, it was now a deep gray. The contrast of the dark shutters against the white painted bricks was pleasing. He would have to ensure that he complimented her choice of decor. He also noted that she had planted a small oak tree to replace the tree she had lost in last winter's storms. He had never walked through this yard without passing under the ponderous branches of the old tree, and he could not help but remember how he had looked up at it as a very young child and feared that it might simply fall on him.

"To the best of my knowledge, my grandmother does not possess any recordings like that."

"Oh, she'll find something to bring out that will embarrass you."

"It is not what she might find that concerns me. It is what she might say."

Nyota laughed. "I like her already."

Reaching the front door, he pressed the small button on his right. As he had heard so many times in the past, the deep pealing of the old-fashioned doorbell was followed immediately by the sound of quick footsteps as his grandmother hurried to meet him.

Her expression was bright when she threw open the door. "Spock! Come here and let an old lady say hello!"

Glancing at Nyota, he bent tolerantly and allowed his grandmother to kiss his cheek. She had always greeted him this way, and he had learned long ago that it was best to allow her to do it. He recalled how he had complained once to his mother that he did not like to be kissed. Amanda had calmly replied that one must make certain concessions for one's family, and since it brought such joy to his grandmother he would be remiss if he were to object. What she did not point out was that he would eventually reach an age where he would appreciate the uncomplicated, unconditional affection that was always so evident in his grandmother's eyes when she reached up to give him the obligatory kiss.

"Greetings, Grandmother," he said gently. "You look well."

"And so do you." She patted him on the cheek. "My favorite boy. When did you get so tall?"

"Approximately twenty-six years ago."

As she laughed, he straightened and gestured for Nyota to step forward, but before he could say another word, his grandmother took both of Nyota's hands in her own.

"And you must be Nyota. Welcome! I'm so glad that you two took the time out of your busy schedule to come and see me."

Nyota smiled warmly and clasped the older woman's hands. "It's our pleasure, Mrs. Grayson. Thank you for having us."

"Please call me Rebecca."

"All right, Rebecca."

She gave Nyota's hands a final squeeze before she ushered them both inside and closed the door. This portion of the house was dark and cool. The scattering of bright oriental rugs added the illusion of warmth to the richly polished hardwood floors, and the high ceiling and spiral staircase were impressive and austere. His old friend Margaret had labeled this area "the cave" when they were children. As always, though, the brightly illuminated doorway at the end of the hall beckoned, luring him into the warm area that he had never known to be called anything other than simply "the big room."

Nyota's eyes were wide with appreciation as she studied the graceful staircase. You have a lovely home, Rebecca. I noticed the little plaque by the front door. Is this house on the historic register?"

"Yes, it is." Rebecca took Nyota's elbow as they walked slowly toward the sunny doorway at the back of the hall. "This house has stood here since the year 1905, but it had fallen on some rough times when my husband and I found it nearly seventy years ago. We knew a treasure when we saw one, so we bought it, and the very first room we fixed up was the nursery. It's been far too long since we had a baby in the nursery, I'll tell you that."

Although she had addressed Nyota, Spock knew very well for whom her comment was meant. Nyota grinned and caught his eye before returning her attention to the elderly woman.

Rebecca patted Nyota lightly on the arm. "This place is home to many memories. Come into the big room and sit down with me. Spock can pour us some lemonade, and we'll have a nice talk."

He followed them into the large room that stretched across the back of the house. This was the source of his strongest childhood memories, this area where the family gathered to cook, dine, socialize, or relax. It was just as he remembered-spacious and bright, with tiny motes of dust dancing in the sunbeams that fell through the large windows, and potted plants sprouting from every corner. Without needing to be told where to look, he went directly to the kitchen and pulled three glasses out of the cabinet, then reached into the cooler for the glass pitcher that he knew would be there.

As he poured the lemonade, his finger brushed the chipped spot on the handle just as it had so many times before, and he reflected on the fact that it was simply right that he would be here once again.

...

Squashing the illogical nervousness that fluttered in his stomach, Spock sat at his grandmother's computer and attempted to compose himself. There was no reason for him to experience such unease. Truly, this would not be difficult. His mother was not the sort of person to ask intrusive questions. She would accept his words at face value and would undoubtedly be extremely approving of the news he was preparing to impart.

If his father were to answer, however...

Spock swallowed and dismissed that thought from his mind. He had been back on speaking terms with his father for nine-point-one years. In those nine-point-one years, he had initiated contact with his parents seventy-two times. Of those seventy-two times, his father had been the one to answer on six occasions. Therefore, based on available data, over the last nine-point-one years his father had answered the comm approximately eight-point-three percent of the time. The odds were twelve to one in his favor; not overwhelming odds, but acceptable.

"Computer. Open frequency to Vulcan, Amanda Grayson."

As he had anticipated, his grandmother had programmed the computer to place the call using nothing more than the most basic data. He counted the minutes required to establish contact with Vulcan, the seconds required to route the call to his parents' home, the time it took for his mother to hear the signal, put aside what she was doing, walk to the computer...

The screen brightened, and Spock experienced relief at the smiling face of his mother.

"Spock! When the computer told me that the message was from Seattle, I was certain it was Mother. What a wonderful surprise!"

"Greetings, Mother. I trust you are well."

"Yes, I'm fine. How long have you been on Earth? Did the Enterprise come in, or do you have business there?"

He suppressed the urge to shift slightly in his chair. "I have been here since Tuesday with... a friend, but we did not arrive on the Enterprise. This is not a business trip."

"You're on vacation? Who are you with? Admiral Kirk?"

"I am here with Nyota Uhura. We came for her nephew's graduation from university."

He paused, trying to gauge his mother's reaction. He did not think that he had supplied enough information for her to understand exactly why he and Nyota would be traveling together, but evidently he had told her all that she needed to know. She blinked and did not comment, and suddenly he felt compelled to fill the empty space with a rush of words.

"I am certain that you remember Commander Uhura. She was the communications officer aboard the Enterprise when you were there. I have served with her for many years, although she is currently assigned to the Lexington. We have been in London, England with her sister, and we are spending the day in Seattle today."

Realizing that he was talking too much, he clamped his lips together and waited for his mother to speak. Finally, a slow smile crept across her face.

"Of course I remember Commander Uhura. She's a lovely woman. How long have you two been involved?"

Reflecting on how it seemed to be a universal constant that his mother could always read him, he allowed the corner of his mouth to turn up slightly. "One year, six months, and nine-point-four days."

"Really! And it took you this long to tell me?"

He shrugged slightly, uncertain how to respond.

Shaking her head affectionately, she said, "Well, I'm very happy for you, son."

"Thank you." He turned at the sound of his grandmother's voice calling from the vicinity of the kitchen, then faced the screen again. "I must go now, Mother. Our lunch is ready."

"We can't keep Grandmother waiting! Have a wonderful trip, Spock, and call when you get back. You can't drop something like this on me and not supply at least a few details."

"Very well, Mother. I will call you. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Spock."

The screen faded to darkness. Spock took a deep breath, then turned off the light and left the study.

...

Running her hands reverently over the heavy album on her lap, Rebecca looked at Uhura, who sat beside her on the sofa.

"I haven't brought this out for years. I suppose that when you reach my age, the memories in your head are far more beautiful than anything ever captured by artificial means. But that doesn't mean I treasure these old photos any less. Spock?"

"Yes?"

His voice came from behind them, and when Uhura glanced over her shoulder, she had to smile at the sight that greeted her. Rebecca had compiled a long list of "little odd jobs" that she needed done around the house, and one of them was stopping the draft that seeped in around the big window in the back. He had found once he got into it, though, that the reason the old paned window wasn't airtight was that it had slipped off its track on one side. Fixing it had turned into a monumental job. Right now, he had what looked like literally hundreds of years worth of dust and cobwebs all over the front of his once-immaculate white shirt. Thank goodness he had folded his black jacket over the back of the chair next to him before starting.

Rebecca appeared not to notice his disreputable appearance. "Spock, when I'm gone I want you to have this old album. Your cousins have been dropping hints that they'd like to have it, but I want you to be sure and tell them that I gave it to you. Will you do that?"

"If my cousins have expressed an interest, should we not divide the contents?"

"Spock, someday I'll be gone, and your mother will be gone..." She faltered for a moment, but soon tightened her lips and continued. "Someday your mother and I won't be around to remind you who you are, and I don't want you to ever forget that you're a child of Earth as well as Vulcan. The people in this album are your heritage, my boy."

Spock turned away from his task and straightened, and Uhura had to swallow past a sudden constriction in her throat at his expression. Openly moved, he did not speak immediately.

"I am honored, Grandmother," he finally said, "and I will ensure that the people in your album are never forgotten."

Obviously not one for sentimentality, Rebecca bent her head and opened the album. "Hmmph. Then it's settled. Move closer, Nyota, so that you can see."

Sliding over until her shoulder brushed against Rebecca's, Uhura peered at the faded, sepia-toned photograph under the old woman's frail hands. The ancient paper was so brittle that it looked like it would crumble at the slightest touch, but Rebecca smoothed a bent corner lovingly as she spoke.

"The oldest photographs here have been passed down through my family since before this house was built. I'll show these to you later, but right now I want you to see something more recent." She slowly paged toward the back. "Through the years, each generation has added a few more pictures to this album. It took some effort, but I had each image that I put in here converted from a holo to a flat photograph."

"What a dazzling bride! Is this you?"

"Yes. I was twenty-three years old when I met Lawrence Grayson, and we married two years after that. We were so happy. Look at him. Wasn't he a handsome man?"

The elderly woman's expression grew soft and unfocused as she studied the picture. She seemed to have drifted away, lost in the memory of a long-ago time. Uhura looked up to realize that Spock stood directly behind them, but before she could catch his eye, Rebecca laughed and drew her attention, sharp and alert again.

"He was extremely handsome," said Uhura. "How long were you married?"

"Sixty-three wonderful years." She turned the page. "And here we are with the children when they were hardly more than babies."

Uhura saw a young couple sitting on a blanket underneath a tree. With them were two children, a chubby boy of about two on the woman's lap, his fist in his mouth, and a freckled girl who must have been around six standing behind her father with her arms around his neck. She smiled hugely at the camera, her blonde curls unruly, and the one foot that could be seen was covered with a red cowboy boot.

"Oh, my! Is that Amanda?"

"Yes, and her brother. And look at this page."

Rebecca tilted the book so that Uhura could see the facing page. On it were two photographs. One showed a young couple that Uhura could only assume were Amanda's brother and his wife, and the other showed a very young Amanda, standing proudly next to Sarek. Both wore formal Vulcan clothing, and except for his dark hair and thinner physique, Sarek appeared much the same as the last time Uhura had seen him.

Uhura looked up at Spock. "Amanda looks radiant. When was this taken?"

"At their bonding ceremony," he replied. "If you look closely, you can see Mount Seleya behind them."

"Yes, I see." Uhura waited patiently while Rebecca turned the page, and then she laughed with delight. "Oh look! Look at you! What a beautiful little boy!"

She glanced at Rebecca's face to see that the other woman was grinning as well. On one side of the album were a number of images of two girls, probably Spock's cousins, but on the other side were four smallish shots of a dark-haired boy, the same somber expression on his face in every single pose.

Pointing, Rebecca said, "Here he is sitting on the bottom step out there in the front hall. He wasn't even two yet, but look how composed and serious he was! And this one, here, was taken when he was four."

"Is that Margaret with him?"

"Yes!" Rebecca laughed. "That little scamp. I'll never forget the day this was taken. They were all dressed up to go to a party-"

Spock interjected. "Mother's high school class reunion."

"That's right, that was it! Anyway, not ten minutes after this was taken, Margaret convinced Spock that there was, ah, what was it, Spock?"

"She informed me that she had found an arrowhead under your azalea bush. In truth, it was merely a flat stone, but I was too young to know the difference."

Uhura shook her head. "And you went out and played in the dirt right before your mother's reunion? How awful!"

"The dirt washed off," he retorted mildly.

Rebecca pointed to the next one. "Spock was twelve when this was taken. He was so thin it used to worry me to distraction. Glad to see that he's finally put some meat on those bones, although he'd better watch out that he doesn't get fat. And here he is on the front lawn of the Academy with his cousins."

"They're very pretty."

"Aren't they, though? They're my son's two girls." Snorting, she threw a sideways glance at Spock. "At least _some_ of your family came to watch you graduate. And here..." She moved her hand, and Uhura saw that there was a fifth image on the corner of the page. "Here is my boy when he was named first officer of the Enterprise."

Uhura reached for the album. "May I?"

"Of course, dear."

Lifting the heavy old album, Uhura looked closely at the formal head-and-shoulders shot of Spock wearing his dress uniform, and it made her think of the first time she had met him. She had beamed aboard with another young lieutenant, and the senior bridge officers had greeted them in the transporter room in their dress uniforms. She'd always thought that he was a striking man, but in a flash she remembered how awestruck she had been that day. He had been so tall and dark, so blindingly intelligent, so utterly serious-he had scared her to death. Amazing how far they had come in all these years.

She handed it back to Rebecca. "This is a wonderful collection."

"Yes, it is. And look at this." The elderly woman turned the page to show them that there was nothing there. Patting the empty place, she said, "This is for you, Spock. See it? I want you to promise me that someday you'll put your most special pictures right here."

"I shall, Grandmother, and someday I will pass the album on."

Nodding firmly, Rebecca sat back and closed the book. "That's good. I'm going to go upstairs and see if I can find some more family holos. Spock, the railing at the top of the steps is loose. Could you take a look while I'm up there? I'd prefer not to make that climb twice."

"Of course." Coming around the sofa, he followed her out of the room.

Uhura listened as their footsteps receded down the hallway. Just as they were moving out of earshot, she heard Rebecca say, "I like her, Spock. It's about time you hooked up with a good woman, and not someone like that horrid T'Pring. After all, I'm not going to be around forever to look after you."

Uhura strained to hear his response, but other than the recognizable murmur of his deep voice, she couldn't make anything out. Too bad. She would have loved to hear what he had to say. She paged absently through the album, marveling over the clothing styles, the hair styles, the old automobiles... The sheer breadth of the history represented by this modest collection was incredible. Someday she'd have to find out exactly who all of these people were, and when and where they lived.

A creaking floorboard interrupted her reverie as Spock reentered the room, and she stood and smiled at him.

He moved close. "She is quite taken with you."

"Well, I like her, too. I'll bet she was a wonderful grandmother, and that you and she had a lot of fun. That is, when you weren't busy digging around in the flower bed or wading in the creek or... Hey! Get away from me! You're too dirty-"

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, and before she could object again, he covered her lips with his own. Relenting, she slid her hands up around his neck and tried not to think too hard about what kind of grime he was rubbing onto her favorite cream sweater. After a moment, he pulled away and looked into her eyes.

"Grandmother said that I needed to give you a large kiss. To refuse her request would be disrespectful."

"Oh, did she now?"

He released her and returned to his work on the window. "Actually, her exact words were that I needed to 'let you know how much I appreciate you.' I was merely extrapolating."

Laughing, she sat back down on the sofa and began picking the sticky little bits of cobweb off her clothes.

End chapter 6


	7. Chapter 7

Bells Through the Leaves, chapter 7

"Azizi, slow down," pleaded Yusufu. "I ate too much to keep up with you."

"See? That's why I only had a salad. You're too lazy now to even walk at a reasonable pace. Don't you dare start snoring during the recital."

Grinning at the teasing banter, Uhura glanced up at Spock as they followed Yusufu and Milele across Trafalgar Square. The restaurant had been excellent but slow, and now they were rushing to make it to St. Martin-in-the-Fields on time. He wasn't at all ruffled by their pace, those long legs allowing him to cover ground easily, but she noticed that his cheeks and ears were flushed green from the brisk wind.

"It's hard to believe you're leaving tomorrow," she said breathlessly. "We didn't have nearly enough time in the National Gallery or Westminster Abbey. There's just so much that we didn't get to do. I'm not ready for you to go!"

"Except for choosing Saavik's book, you have had little opportunity to shop. You will enjoy exploring the outdoor market tomorrow and spending some time alone with Milele."

"Yes, I know, but I'll still miss you."

From ahead of them, Milele announced, "Here we are! If you all hurry, we won't miss a single note."

They dashed up the marble steps and through the heavy wooden door, but Uhura was only able to take three paces into the interior of the church before she slowed and looked overhead. Milele grabbed her arm and dragged her along while she gaped at the high, vaulted ceiling. Adorned with elaborate, gilded plasterwork, it shone every bit as brightly as the orange and yellow autumn leaves on Sefu's maple tree.

Spock handed her a program as they slid into a long wooden pew, but before she could open it, Milele leaned close and whispered, "Did you see the cherubs?"

"No! Where are they?" Uhura craned her neck, trying to find them.

Pointing, Milele said, "There's one, and there's another."

"Oh, yes! This is incredible."

Suddenly the lights on the walls were replaced by the lights on the stage, so she took one last look at the ceiling and grabbed her program, squinting as she tried to read in the dark. Before she could find what was to be played first, however, the pianist came out and attacked the keyboard without a moment's delay. Uhura smiled and put the program back in her lap. She didn't need it to know what this was. "Bells Through the Leaves." One of her favorites.

She relaxed against the hard seat and basked in the exotic chime-like tones, letting them surround her and take her to a time far away. The thickly textured layers of the music swirled throughout the cavernous room, bouncing off the walls and rising to the ceiling, filling it with sound. She looked up, almost expecting to see that the very atmosphere had changed, but all she found was a murky grayness, the patches of darkly shining gold seeming to dance in the low light. Even the cherubs had all but vanished, peering out of the shadows like tiny angels looking down from heaven.

Barely turning her head, she looked over at Spock. He was intent on the pianist's dazzling technique and didn't realize that she was studying him. As she traced his strong profile with her eyes, a sudden lump constricted her throat. She could look at him like this forever and never get her fill, yet tomorrow they would go their separate ways once more, and she wouldn't see him again until who knew when.

Taking a deep breath, she scooted a little closer and faced the front of the church.

...

Stretched out in bed, Spock listened as Nyota hummed and brushed her teeth at the same time. Although the sound was rather unique, he had no difficulty recognizing the melody. She was still humming when she came to bed.

He turned out the light and pulled her into his arms.

"I am pleased that Ling Chih Yong played 'Clare de lune' for you tonight."

"Me too. I was disappointed that it wasn't on the program, but I should have known that she might save it for the encore. What really surprised me was that she played it twice."

"It is quite amazing how a single member of the audience can encourage the rest of the audience to keep clapping until the musician is obliged to play again."

Pretending to push him away, she said, "You know that it wasn't just me!"

He tightened his grip around her back. "Yes, I know. But you tried your best to encourage her to play it a third time."

Chuckling, she slid her hands around to the back of his neck and gazed at him, her eyes bright in the low light. Her parted lips invited his touch, so he lowered his head and kissed her, savoring the softness of her mouth against his own.

Pressing her back against the mattress, he deepened the kiss, and he felt himself begin to grow hard as she rubbed her torso against him. The thin fabric of her nightgown was slick against his fingers, teasing him with the hint of the flesh beneath when he snaked his hand between their bodies and cupped her breast.

She moaned as he slowly began to undress her, unbuttoning each tiny button down the front as his lips trailed behind his fingers. When the nightgown was open all the way, he slid it off her shoulders and gazed at her nakedness. She was beautiful, her lush breasts rising softly with each breath.

He felt her fingers open the front of his shirt. She skillfully eased it off his shoulders and caressed his chest, then worked her way downward. Ah, yes. Soon. Soon, he would bring her to ecstasy without the dangerous edge of four nights ago. Soon, he would enter her mind with confidence, and not hold himself in check like he had three nights ago. Soon, he would make everything right again for her, and he would express with his actions what he could not express with his words.

To his dismay, he felt his erection begin to subside, and he realized too late that it had been a mistake to think of their earlier difficulties. This could not be; he could not allow his body to betray him. Such a physical response, or lack thereof, was unacceptable. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the sensations, determined to recapture the mood of just moments ago.

He could smell her perfume, its earthy scent combining with the unmistakable scent of her arousal, as she untied the drawstring on his pants and ran her hands around to his back. Sliding her fingers underneath the fabric and grasping his buttocks, she moved close, her breasts brushing his bare chest so that she could whisper moistly in his ear.

"Take your pants off."

His erection faded completely.

A Terran epithet sprang unbidden into his mind. _Damn_. He pushed it away, along with the other thoughts that threatened to crowd back into his consciousness. Tonight must be memorable, as it would be their last night in the same bed for what might be a long time. Obviously, however, the current approach was not working. Therefore, he must alter his approach.

He took a deep breath and unclenched the muscles in his jaw, then removed his pants and tossed them onto the floor. Instead of returning to her arms as she expected, he slid down to the foot of the bed and touched his tongue to her clitoris.

Her reaction was instantaneous and rewarding. Arching her back, she wrapped her legs around his neck and hissed, "Yes."

He began to lap her gently, and when she moaned, he intensified his efforts. Within moments she tensed and clutched his shoulders, and although she was very quiet, he knew that she had reached orgasm. Very good. This he could do, even if he could not do more. Although tasting her and bringing her such pleasure had not helped him to become hard again, he could be certain that he satisfied her using other techniques. He continued until she cried out softly again, and again.

Finally, she grasped his arms and pulled him up, eager to have him inside her. He still held out one faint, illogical hope that his body would cooperate once in this position, but when she reached down to attempt to guide him into her, she did not find what she sought.

She opened her eyes wide in surprise. "Uh... Spock?"

He turned his face away so that he did not have to look at her. "I am sorry, Nyota."

She moved her other hand between them and fondled him. "Maybe if I do this."

He pulled away and rolled heavily onto his back. "It will not work."

She was quiet for a long moment but finally said, "Don't worry about it, Spock. It happens to all men sometimes."

"It has never happened to me."

She smiled gently. "Well, as I've heard you say before, 'for everything there is a first time.'"

"No." He shook his head in frustration. "I am sorry, Nyota. I seem to be saying that overmuch recently..." Unable to suppress the impulse, he rubbed his forehead. "It was highly important to me that tonight be good between us, since it is unlikely we will be together again for many months. Truly, I wished to compensate for the fact that our sexual relations on this trip have been less than satisfactory-"

"Wait a minute, wait a minute." She propped her forearms on his chest and forced him to look in her eyes. "Maybe things have changed between us a little recently, but heavens, we've been together a long time and we're bound to have our ups and downs. The sex was just fine. And it will be tonight, too. Can't I just try?"

He studied her face. Although she was trying very hard to keep the tone of their interaction casual, he could see the concern beneath her gentle smile. He feared that the experience would end up being even more disappointing than it already was for both of them, but he could not tell her no.

"Very well."

"Good. You just relax. Close your eyes."

She watched him until he complied, then he felt her shift on the bed. Uncertain what she was going to do, he jumped slightly when he felt her cool lips on his penis.

"Spock." Exasperation tinged her voice. "Relax."

"Forgive me." He settled back down onto the pillow.

This time, he was not surprised when she took him into her mouth, and as he focused on it, he decided that the sensation _was_ rather stimulating. He ran through a series of basic relaxation exercises, and when he completed them he was pleased to discover that he had become semi-erect. Nyota was good at this. Very good...

She drew the full length of him into her mouth, sucking with increasing pressure, and he groaned. He was not fully tumescent, but perhaps this would be enough.

"Nyota... Ah, yes, yes. Now..."

She quickly straddled him. It took a small amount of effort, but soon he was inside her and they were moving together. The wind was blowing outside, and he could hear the leaves slapping against the window as she stroked him with her body, her hands resting on his shoulders and her eyes holding his own.

Reaching for her face, he touched the contact points and eased his mind into hers. Her thoughts were in turmoil-worry, relief, love, alarm, longing. He could not distinguish where one emotion ended and the next began, so he simply wrapped his thoughts around hers in an effort to reassure her.

Their separate tensions built quickly, and he saw in her mind the same fear he had in his own, that if they tried to delay their release the tension might simply dissipate without resolution. She nodded to encourage him, and with a final, quick rush he threw his head back and emptied himself deep into her body. An instant later, he knew through the link that she had followed him, and he continued to pump until he could not move again.

She lowered herself onto his chest and kissed him. They did not speak. Although they had achieved their goal, it was less than satisfying for both of them, and he understood that neither of them knew what else could be said.

Finally, she rolled onto her side and he pressed himself against her back. It took them both a long time to fall asleep.

End chapter 7


	8. Chapter 8

Bells Through the Leaves, chapter 8

"Nyota. It is time for me to go."

Crawling up from the depths of a deep sleep, she opened her eyes to find that Spock was sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed. Behind his head, the early morning sun was just beginning to flicker through the leaves, and it looked like the day would be clear. Well. Finally her effort to open the curtains at night had paid off. She stretched and rolled onto her back.

"Already?"

He nodded. "My transport will be here in approximately five minutes."

She sat up in bed and ran her fingers through her hair. "Why didn't you wake me sooner?"

"You were sleeping peacefully. I did not wish to disturb you."

"Are you sure that you don't want me to take you to the spaceport? Just give me a minute to throw on some clothes." She swung her feet to the floor and started to get up.

He held out his hand to stop her. "Yes, I am sure. The hour is early, and I know that you would like to go back to sleep. It is not an imposition for me to take a taxicab to the spaceport."

"I don't mind."

He nodded gently. "I know."

They gazed at one another for a long moment. His expression was unreadable, and as she looked at him she was suddenly overwhelmed by all that she wanted to tell him. She loved him, she needed him, she wished that he could stay, the uncounted months until she saw him again would be unbearable... How could she possibly find the words to express so much in only a few short minutes? It was impossible.

Finally, she simply shook her head and smiled ruefully.

"Here we go again. Somehow, it seems like we say goodbye more than we say hello."

"If you are counting the number of times we have parted and the number of times we have been reunited since we began our intimate relationship, you are correct."

She laughed and saw the answering humor in his eyes. "Oh, Spock, I'm going to miss you."

"I shall miss you, too."

Touching her lightly on the chin, he turned her face up to his, but his lips had barely made contact with hers when they heard a vehicle pull up outside the front door.

He glanced toward the window. "My transport has arrived earlier than I anticipated."

"You'd better hurry."

He brushed his fingers lightly against her cheek, then stood and picked up his suitcase. She grabbed her robe and belted it as she followed him toward the door.

"Would you convey my gratitude to Milele and Yusufu?" he asked quietly as they walked down the stairs. "I would have preferred to take my leave of them in person, but I assume that they are still asleep."

Nyota grinned. "Oh, they're probably awake, but they're going to let us say goodbye in private."

"Ah." He stopped by the front door and put down his suitcase. "That is considerate of them."

She slid her hands around his neck. "Isn't it, though?"

He pulled her into his arms, but they were both very aware of the taxi waiting outside. Before she knew it, he had picked up his suitcase again and he was walking out the front door. She stepped into the open doorway.

"Have a good flight, Spock. Call me when you get back to the ship!"

"I shall."

Turning as he stood on the top step, he held his hand up with two fingers extended, and she pressed her own hand to his. After only an instant, though, he pulled away and trotted briskly down the steps, then put his suitcase into the taxi, nodded once in her direction, and climbed in. She watched as the taxi sailed into the sky and vanished in the distance.

Grasping her upper arms, she walked slowly back into the house. The air was cool, despite the clear sky, and it felt good to close the door behind her. She trudged up the steps and returned to her room.

The bedroom seemed very empty now. Spock had even neatened the pillow and the sheets on his side of the bed, and she could hardly tell that he had slept there. She didn't bother to open the closet door, but she knew that if she did, all she'd find were a few of her things next to a row of unused hangers.

She turned away from the empty bed and dragged a small wooden chair over to the window. Seating herself, she propped her elbows on the sill and rested her chin on her hands, then leaned forward until she could feel the chill coming off the glass. The leaves were beautiful, reds and golds and oranges, and they waved in the breeze like a thousand tiny little flags.

What had happened last night between her and Spock? Their week had been wonderful despite a few minor bumps, and she had assumed that everything was fine. But then last night she had been caught entirely off-guard by his difficulties. Was it her fault? Had she inadvertently pressured him? She'd never known him to succumb to pressure, and heaven only knew that he had lived with incredible pressure from both within and without his entire life. Maybe, though, he was just good at pretending that the pressure didn't bother him. And last night he had found himself in a situation where pretending wasn't going to fool anyone. She'd have to be more careful in the future.

The window began to blur where her breath fogged the glass, and she cleared it off with the side of her hand.

If only he hadn't had to leave so early this morning. Why had he been in such a hurry? If he were still here, he would be awake by now. She would open her eyes to find him watching her, and she would sleepily wriggle over in the bed until she could feel him next to her. He would be so hot under the heavy covers, and every muscle in her body would relax in his overwhelming heat. Maybe he would put his arm around her and pull her onto his chest, and she would rest her head on him and gaze out the window. He would gently rub her arm, or maybe he would run his fingers through her hair. If only, if only.

Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by the tiniest clanging of a single, far-away bell, which an instant later was joined by the joyous tumult of rippling scales. She frowned and turned away. How could anything be so cheerful when she felt so melancholy? She tried to hang on to her cozy fantasy, but it flitted away, as startled as the little bird that had been resting in the branches of the tree. She wanted to feel sad, to miss him, to long for the day they would be together again... but somehow she couldn't. The clamor of the bells was too life-affirming and uplifting, and she felt her spirits rise despite herself as the bells tumbled from high to low, high to low, again and again. It was Sunday morning, and the bells of Westminster Abbey were inviting everyone to get up and share in the creation of another beautiful day. How could she resist? As if in response, the wind began to blow harder, tossing the leaves in a riotous dance outside the blurry window.

She leaned back toward the glass and peered through the leaves. Could Spock hear the bells? He was probably still in the taxi. Closing her eyes, she tried to picture exactly where Heathrow lay in relation to Westminster, and she decided that unless he was already at the spaceport, there was a good chance he could hear them. Oh, she hoped so. She would try to describe them to him later, but no description could possibly capture the beauty of this moment.

She held her breath as the bells subsided into only a single voice, eight strokes... and then nothing was left but a ghostly vibration in the silence of the morning air.

She looked back toward the center of the room. Somehow, without her even realizing it, the sun had climbed up into the sky and was streaming through the window, falling over the bed and flickering across the wall.

She rose to take her shower.

...

Sitting motionless in the taxicab, Spock listened to the clanging of the last bell. Eight strokes. 0800 hours. He breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that they would ring no more.

His throat tight, he remembered the last time he had heard such a cacophony of bells. They had been very different in timbre-small, jangling, harsh-but they had rung, nevertheless, and incited his blood into molten lava, pure fire running through his veins there on the grounds of his ancestors. So different than the chill that had descended upon his body when the raucous noise began today.

Why had he not awakened Nyota this morning? He had stood by her bedside and studied her as she slept, and the pressure in his chest had been something he could not ignore. Even though he had cared for her deeply for many years, he had not expected to experience such strong emotions as these. And each time he saw her, they became even stronger. He would not have thought it possible, but it was true.

So, to return to his original query, why had he let her sleep? Was it because he was afraid? Afraid that she would wish to discuss his near-impotence of the night before? Afraid that he would have to look her in the eyes and tell her that it meant nothing? Afraid that he might break under the intensity of her gaze and tell her that it meant everything? That he had not been truthful, that he had concealed so much from her, that the time might come when he would demand that she submit to his most irresistible desires? She told him that his confession of 'primal urges' excited her, but she had no idea what she was really saying.

Or perhaps he truly just wished for her to sleep, so that he could observe her smooth features while she was relaxed and unaware of his scrutiny.

The flitter began to descend, and he saw that he neared the spaceport.

He idly calculated the amount of time he would need to check in, pass through customs, locate the appropriate terminal, and travel to his gate. He should be able to complete all of those activities in no more than eighteen minutes, and his flight did not depart until 0910 hours. He had known, of course, from the moment he rose this morning that he had ample time to prepare for his departure, but illogically he had felt the need to hurry, and he had done nothing to fight that impulse. He closed his eyes briefly and hoped that Nyota had not noticed his haste.

The taxicab settled gently onto the pavement, so he climbed out and lifted his suitcase from the back. As he walked toward the entrance of the spaceport, he wondered what Nyota was doing right now. Had she crawled back into bed and burrowed under the covers? Or had she decided to rise and meet the day? Perhaps she was in the shower at the moment, or she was sitting at the kitchen table sipping her morning coffee, laughing and smiling with her sister.

The large clearsteel doors parted as he approached, and he entered the spaceport. To his right were a bank of comm terminals, the small sign that marked them for public use flashing overhead. Less than half of them were occupied. Even under the most conservative estimate, he had forty-three minutes that would contain nothing but idle time. Perhaps he should call her...

Scanning the ever-changing display at the end of the lobby, he saw that check-in for his flight was in progress at counter fifty. He paused and looked at the comm terminals again.

What would he tell her if he called? That he was merely thinking of her? That he missed her already? Such sentiments were not only maudlin but highly illogical. And he could certainly not broach such sensitive topics as those he truly wished to discuss over a public comm system. He squared his shoulders and walked toward counter fifty.

Perhaps he would call her later.

End part four of "Fire, Wind, and Water: The Debussy Suite"

The next story in this series is Gardens in the Rain.


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